


No Day But Today

by tomatopudding



Category: The Book of Mormon, The Book of Mormon - Parker/Stone/Lopez
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M, Pre-Slash, Reunions, cross-dressing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-08
Updated: 2013-11-08
Packaged: 2017-12-31 21:26:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1036580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tomatopudding/pseuds/tomatopudding
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Naba, Arnold, and Kevin are living together in a loft in New York City after being excommunicated from the Church of Latter Day Saints. When Kevin is beaten up and left in the street, he is found by a familiar face from Uganda, although Connor McKinley is a bit different than he remembers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Day But Today

**Author's Note:**

> This was not at all born from listening to Book of Mormon and Rent in quick succession. Not at all. Ahem.

Connor was walking his usual path through the streets of Alphabet City when he saw him. He was curled in on himself against a brick wall, nothing left of his coat but a sleeve still stubbornly clinging to his arm. The poor guy was bleeding from his nose and a bruise was already starting to form around one eye.

“You okay, honey?”

Connor carefully made his way over to the guy, weeks of practice the only reason he didn’t fall off of his knee-high, four inch high heeled boots as he crouched down beside the guy. What a day to wear his new skirt, Connor thought, at least he had worn leggings as well. Otherwise, things might have been a bit more awkward.

“I’m afraid so.”

Connor couldn’t help but chuckle at his response, brushing a few strands of his long, auburn wig away from his face. He would never understand how women dealt with their hair sticking to their lipstick all the time.

“Did they get any money?”

“I am, fortunately, fresh out,” the man replied with a smirk, then a wince as it opened his lip further, “They even left me a whole sleeve of my coat. How polite.”

Connor laughed again, but it died in his throat when the man looked up at him.

“E-elder Price?” he stuttered.

Kevin Price let out a snort, “Nobody’s called me that for years.”

Kevin looked at him, really looked, and the realization slowly dawned on his features, “Elder McKinley?”

Connor broke their gaze, eyes falling to his legging-clad knees, “Not anymore.” 

“Right. Of course.”

“Come on,” Connor said, rising gracefully to his feet, “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Kevin tried to follow suit, but fell back to the ground with a wince, one hand pressed against his stomach. Connor knew that look of pain, he was very familiar with it. Someone had been kicking him. If he was lucky, Kevin would only have some painful bruises to deal with. Connor knew that from personal experience that there were worse things to deal with. He offered a hand to his fellow former missionary and helped Kevin stand shakily, arms still crushed against himself.

\----------

Kevin hissed as the antiseptic soaked cotton swab was dabbed against the cut on his left cheek that reached downwards towards the corner of his lip.

“Sorry.”

McKinley winced in sympathy and bit his red-painted lip.

“Don’t worry about it,” Kevin squeezed out through gritted teeth.

“What have you been up to?”

“What?”

McKinley smiled lightly, “Since Uganda. You know, to take your mind off of things.”

“We were excommunicated from the Church, Elder Cunning--er, I mean Arnold and I,” Kevin told him, “And Nabalungi, of course. Although the Church insisted that she had never been a Latter Day Saint at all.”

“But we know better.”

Kevin smiled, but it dropped almost immediately as the movement set his cut stinging again, “Right.”

McKinley sat back, taking that infernal antiseptic with him. Without the direct contact, the cut only tingled unpleasantly.

“Take off your shirt,” McKinley commanded.

“What?”

“I need to check your ribs,” he explained with a laugh, “Nothing untoward, I promise. I don’t bite,” McKinley shot him a mascara-laden wink, “Not unless you ask nicely.”

Kevin let out a startled chuckle. This McKinley was a much more confidant man than the boy Kevin had known in Uganda. He did as he was told and removed his shirt, sucking in a pained breath as he lifted his arms above his head. As McKinley probed at his ribs with gentle, but sure, fingers, Kevin cocked his head curiously.

“How do you know so much about first aid?”

McKinley stopped his ministrations and simply looked at Kevin, one shaped eyebrow raised delicately, “Even New York has its fair share of bigots.” 

“Ah, right, of course. Sorry.”

“No problem,” McKinley said, brushing off the comment and flicking his bangs to the side with a single twitch of his head.

“Thanks for doing this Elder McKin--I mean, um.”

“Connor,” McKinley supplied, his fingers stilling again, “My name is Connor.”

“I’m Kevin.”

“I know,” Connor replied quickly, then blushed fiercely and returned to his prodding.

Kevin’s embarrassment at having never learned Connor’s name before dissipated in the face of that blush. Kevin couldn’t help but think how adorable Connor looked when he blushed and let out a low chuckle.

“So, what are you doing in the city, Kevin?” Connor asked, clearing his throat nervously.

“I live here. Several blocks away from here, actually.”

Connor’s mouth formed a oh of surprise and his hands stilled once again, remaining pressed against Kevin’s chest. 

“How did you get this swanky place?” Kevin asked, enjoying the warmth radiating from Connor’s palms.

“I perform in several clubs around the city,” Connor explained, “There’s one on Avenue A that I go to on the weekends and they practically throw hundreds at the stage if they like you.

“I guess they really like you, then,” Kevin replied, one hand rising to cover Connor’s.

Connor drew his hands away as if burned, his blush returning. Yep, Kevin decided, definitely adorable.

“I don’t think you have any fractures,” Connor told him, slightly louder than necessary, looking anywhere that wasn’t Kevin’s chest.

“Thank you, Connor, really. Why don’t you come over for dinner? It won’t be the champagne and caviar that I’m sure you’re used to,” Kevin teased with a smirk, “But Arnold and Naba would love to see you.” 

Connor smiled widely, his eyes crinkling at the corners, “Sure, just let me change.” 

When he emerged a few minutes later, Kevin was surprised to see that Connor had traded his skirt for jeans and a t-shirt. Granted, they were some of the tightest items of clothing Kevin had ever seen, but the change was so drastic that he blinked a few times in shock. He could see more of the Connor McKInley he had known before, although his short hair was messy from being under the wig and his eyes still bore a trace of black liner. Kevin realized that he had been staring and gaping and that Connor was grinning at him.

“Your shirt,” Kevin blurted out, “It’s...interesting.”

Connor smoothed a hand over the bright yellow caricature of a smiling lit lightbulb on the gray fabric of his shirt, “It was a gift from Elder Thomas after I was excommunicated. When he gave it to me he told me to, and I quote, try turning that off.”

Kevin laughed. That was pretty clever.

“You know, Arnold and Naba wouldn’t have minded,” Kevin commented as they stepped out the door side by side, “If you’d come as you were.”

Connor chuckled, “That’s how I perform. It’s the only way I feel comfortable being on a stage in front of so many people. I mean, sometimes I go out that way because that’s just how I feel on that particular day.”

“I don’t understand. Do you like dressing up in women’s clothes?” Kevin asked with a frown.

“Some of the gals I work with do, but for me,” Connor bit his lip, thinking, “It’s less that I like it and more of a desire, a bodily need. Some days I don’t feel comfortable in my own skin unless I’m wearing a dress. I don’t know how else to explain it.”

Connor looked at him from the corner of one eye as if gauging Kevin’s reaction. Kevin gave him a reassuring smile and reached over to grasp Connor’s hand. Connor smiled shyly. They continued to talk as they strolled, trading glances and tentative smiles. 

Kevin was right in saying that Arnold and Nabalungi would be glad to see the other former Elder. And if Connor and Kevin’s fingers were still entwined when they entered the loft, nobody mentioned it.

**Author's Note:**

> I've seen Book of Mormon three times and been a McPriceley shipper since the beginning, but this is my first shot at writing them. There may end up being another story or two in this same universe, but I haven't decided yet.


End file.
